Not In That Way
by Dreamer012
Summary: My book about the X Factor - kind of based on Diana and Eoghan. Please review!
1. The Way I Am

INTRODUCTION

THE WAY I AM

_...This [book] is for anyone who..._

_Fuck it_

_Shut up and listen..._

I guess you could call this an autobiography. It's from my point of view and it's about my life. Now what else does an autobiography require…oh yeah. I'm a celebrity. Now don't get excited; I'm not one of those party-maniacs/drug-addicts you read about in magazines – at least, I hope I'm not. And don't go thinking that this book will be chock-full of drug use and domestic abuse like Eminem and Michael Jackson. This story is about me: Diana Maia Jones, a perfectly normal teenage student who Jasmine happened to take a shine to – and who went to the finals, only to crash and burn on Live TV, of all places. What am I talking about, you ask? The X Factor.

So many people have asked me over the years, if fame is all it's cracked up to be. I tell them it is, because if they wanted the whole truth; what fame really is, I'd have to talk and talk and never stop. Jasmine took pity on me, giving me this notebook, so now I'm going to tell you, God, what the definition of fame is.

I didn't believe in you until I met Chris, the boy who is the reason that I am writing this. As I call him discreetly in one of my songs, 'The Guy Without A Heart'. He showed me so much – among other things, why people worship you. It's nothing to do with the fact that they want to 'purify their souls', or 'spread the good word of you'. Just believing that there is a big guy in the clouds watching over us makes it easier to slog through the days, knowing that there is something better waiting for us when the inevitable happens. I don't know if Chris feels this way; if thinking you are up there helps him exist, even with an empty space where his heart should be. Maybe he truly does get the whole 'religion' lark. Certainly, he endeavoured to convert Protestant Lorane to Catholicism for a whole week before giving up and focusing on my beliefs instead.

Here's where I have to be honest. I loved Chris. Just – and here is the cliché that has been handed down for centuries; that no-one ever believes, but which is as true as when the first celebrity used it to protest their innocence in the game of threesomes – not in that way. Who I _did_love in that way was my at the time five-month boyfriend, Dennis. I figured if Chris didn't want me anymore, I'd always have him as a backstop. Ha. Men are no more trustworthy than women, when it comes to the crunch. And it will always, some way, come to the crunch.

I wonder if you ever loved anyone. I mean in the way that makes you want to reach into their chest and take their heart, just so it will belong to you. Maybe it was Mary (who my Irish granny named me for) all along, and since you could never have her, you got your ultimate revenge: knocked her up. Guess you're just as bad as the rest of them. I have issues with that beautiful Bible story of the first Christmas. I mean, all the time Mary was preggers, wearing loose smocks to hide her shame and riding on a donkey so her royal-blue robes (apparently the highest honour in those days) would not brush the ground, Joseph never said a word. Didn't it bother him that you had, effectively, pinched his woman? Didn't he curse the man who had done to this to his wife and left him with the consequences? Then again, maybe he was just a really nice guy.

12 X FACTOR FINALISTS REVEALED

Yes, the long wait appears to be over, and we have been presented with our finalists, which include the unique Diana Jones, controversial Triple K and loveable Irish lad Chris Demure.

We seem to have a good range of old-life stories this year: recovered junkie, formerly suicidal singleton – and even Siamese twins! Yes, the judges have outdone themselves in selecting objects of interest…but can they sing?

Well, we'll have to wait 'til next Saturday when our contestants will be pitted against each other in a merciless battle to find the one who's got…the X Factor.

And so it begins.


	2. A Moment Like This

PART 1

LOCKDOWN

RED DUST – ZERO 7

The Judges:

Jasmine Jarisa: She's been there since the year before me, and got a winner first time, judging the Boys. She's my mentor – and the one everyone wants. Beautiful, lovely, and light as a feather, she is a brilliant judge, but can't stand to say no. She's married to football player Kelsey, but I would never call her a WAG. Part of the successful group 'Mix and Match', she is famous in her own right, and woe betide anyone who claims otherwise.

Melodia Dure: New this year, but she was on _American Idol _for a while, so she and Daniel are at least acquaintances. Hopelessly intimidated by Jasmine, she does her best to avoid her – all company in fact, except her Over 25s, who she idolizes. She has a steady boyfriend and a shady past, as it is often rumoured that her Dad used violence to get her into the fame-game. But she ignores these for the most part and does her thing. Well, she's done alright so far.

Oliver Scuttish: Old as the hills by today's standards, but an excellent ear. Despite many reports of biased behaviour over the years, he is still held in a certain respect. Single, so naturally many old ladies fancy him, and he has many close friends among his fans. Although mild by nature, he can get nasty when the press cross him, and makes a point of not getting too close to his contestants. Which is why it was such a surprise when he befriended Triple K.

Daniel Cowell: Descended from the notorious Simon, ownership of the show has fallen into Daniel's all-too-capable hands. Years of fame have left him frozen, dating three supermodels a month and stopping at nothing to keep his contestants in the hot-spot. Many reports have wondered at his affiliation with his female fellow judges, but he doesn't take the bait, happily insulting anyone who doesn't meet his standards. He is as much a part of the X Factor as the cameras, and his motto is 'Never quit'.

Michael & Molly: Co-hosts. Possibly the nicest people on Earth, they cope fabulously well with fame and are always there for the auditionees; whether a shoulder to cry on or a torso to hug in pure delight.

CHAPTER ONE

A MOMENT LIKE THIS

26th of September

X Factor house

Dear God

You know Chris, right. I mean, you made him. Tell me: did you intend him to meet me? Did you place us in each other's paths so we did a double take? Or was it the work of your old golf buddy, Satan? Even I, knowing the story, could not tell you, let alone the press. Maybe it was one of your Tests. The real question is, who was it for? 'Cause if it was the classic: 'Is Diana Jones Really A Bitch, Or Just A Wildchild?' I bet I turned out to be the former.

…_It's almost that feeling that we've met before_

_So tell me that you don't think I'm crazy_

_When I tell you love has come here and now…_

Why did you make the British Isles so crappy? I'm not complaining, really, but seriously, _we're _not the ones who butchered your son. If you're gonna punish a country, what's wrong with Rome?

The British Isles was a crude shock after the sunny sands of Barcelona, but having spent a week away from my own country, with none of my family by my side (although Jasmine and the Girls were perfectly willing substitutes), I was thrilled to have the prospect of home looming in front of me again, even if I'd be locked up in the X Factor house.

That's why I was a little perturbed when I looked out of the window of Jasmine's jet, and saw a mass of rain-soaked green.

'Where the Hell are we?' I demanded.

Jasmine yawned wearily. 'There's been a change of plan,' she slurred. 'Last year some over-the-top fans broke into the house before lockdown was over and nicked a load of the contestants' stuff. From what Oliver says, it's much easier to find a place in Ireland that's pretty much isolated, so basically we're gonna be living in some old country house for the next week.'

'But –' Before I could even begin to protest, Jasmine's honeyed head had slumped backwards and she had begun, ever so gently, to snore.

'She sounds like she's purring!' giggled Robyn Boyle.

'Aw, she's so _sweet!'_cooed Lorane Wing.

These were my fellow Girl finalists (That Girl with a capital G to specify the category). We got on quite well; particularly Robyn and Lorane, and I sincerely hoped that none of us would be leaving for at least a couple of months.

'So didn't you hear about last year?' asked Lorane in surprise. 'They stole Bluebell Zed's last bottle of perfume and cut off one of C.S Sunshine's dreads!' Lorane was getting more animated now; she loved a good gossip. 'Daniel was _furious;_promised to hunt them down and personally retrieve every item.'

Robyn stretched lazily. 'Did he deliver?'

'Uh-uh. The very next day he found out that his Dad's best friend had had a heart attack.'

'Poor guy,' I said feelingly. 'It's awful when someone close to you dies.'

Lorane nodded knowingly. 'I lost my grandfather to lung cancer.'

'Pneumonia,' I rejoined.

'My cousin committed suicide,' spoke up Robyn, her eyes shining. 'He always used to love my singing – he's the whole reason I signed up for this.'

There was a long, mournful silence.

'Well, life goes on,' concluded Lorane.

Yes it did. In fact, as we were to find out, life could withstand a lot more than we'd ever wanted it to.

The minute we landed, we all piled out of the plane. It seemed we were early as the place was virtually deserted. Maybe if I hadn't been so pissed off at being sent off to the most boring place in the world, I might have seen just how beautiful it was.

Robyn was clearly much deeper than me. She spun around in a slow circle contentedly. 'I'm back,' she breathed.

'Huh?'

'I'm half-Irish,' she explained. 'I spent the first three years of my life here.'

'And you _liked_it?'

'It's my home,' she said simply. 'London's miserable. Do you like it?'

I shrugged.

'You love it,' she accused.

'OK, you love your homes!' interrupted Lorane. 'Who cares? Hello; we're in the finals!'

The last statement was in italics and when it was done she threw her hands in the air like Melodia Dure had when she'd first heard her sing.

'Speaking of which…' Jasmine squinted up at the sky, where a massive black shape hovered. 'Looks like the Boys are here.'

Robyn squealed girlishly, obviously taking the mickey. We had not yet met the Boys but from the reports of their reactions on being accepted as finalists, they were evidently a bunch of overly-emotional crybabies.

Jasmine didn't notice our disparaging looks; she was too busy waving frantically at the sky, trying to signal the vehicle. 'Oy! Down here!' she yelled.

The ground around us began to shake, dust kicked up as if the wind had transformed into a thousand Kickers. Even the enormous house trembled, and us Girls were shaking by the time the helly had finished its descent.

Lorane collapsed the second it landed. 'That was the scariest thing _ever.'_

'Nah,' Robyn disagreed cheerfully, holding out a hand to haul her up. 'The scariest thing _ever_was the auditions.'

'Got me there.'

'When was the X Factor house switched to Ireland?'

The delight in the speaker's voice immediately revealed him as Chris Demure, the loveable lad who came from one of the many, many, overlooked towns of Ireland. Considering (as far as the press were concerned) that he was only a holiday-goer, had been getting a lot of media attention recently. Most of it had been positive. Lucky bastard.

We heard Daniel Cowell explaining the whole sob story just as we saw two other guys emerging from the thing. One of them had a shaved head and a sweet, earnest expression, and the other had a slight scattering of stubble and looked weirdly like Dennis. I'll tell you about Dennis later.

The second Boy took one look at Lorane's ass and whistled like it was his day job. She stuck a finger up at him and turned her back, chatting pointedly to the other.

'Hey, I'm Lorane.'

'I'm Robbie…'

I directed my attention to Robyn and Whistler, who were shuffling awkwardly.

Robyn cleared her throat. 'Uh, I'm Robyn.'

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. 'Thomas.'

There was only one boy – and me – left unaccounted for. That was Chris, the Irish guy.

Looking at him, I saw that he was very cute. He was dark-auburn headed and pale faced, with big hazel green eyes and a rounded chin. His hair was all nice and spiky and he was quite small. In short, he looked a little like me. Just a little. But the resemblance was definitely there.

He smiled. Oh God. That kid had the most heartbreaking smile I'd ever seen. 'I'm Chris Demure.'

Typically, I turned into a melting moron. 'Diana. Jones,' I added hastily.

I noticed that he had a confident pose: best foot forward and thumbs hooked into his pockets. His head tilted ever so slightly to one side, as if he was humouring a baby, and his eyes had a certain wide innocence, like he was five years short of a bus pass.

'So how do you like Ireland?' he enquired conversationally.

I pulled a face. 'I thrive in enclosed spaces.'

He looked puzzled. 'But I read an article…aren't you quarter Irish?'

'Yeah, but Robyn's half English and she hates it there.'

He smiled wickedly. 'Watch out, she sounds like my kind of girl.'

'She's nineteen,' I informed him.

He drooped. 'Damn, and there's me underage.'

'Aw, sweetie.' I found myself ruffling his hair sympathetically.

He pulled away. 'Sorry, I hate that.'

'OK, how's this?' I put my hand on his shoulder.

He relaxed. 'Yeah.' Our eyes met and the world around us evaporated. 'That's great.'

Lorane barged between us and jogged on the spot as if preparing for an oncoming ambush. She raised her eyebrows at me and I wished that I hadn't told her about Dennis.

Then she appeared to let it go, grinning at Chris. 'I It-ed you by the way.'

She darted away and he obligingly went after her, zigzagging left and right if he came across any of the others.

'Hey DJ, you playing?' he called, seemingly unaware that he had just used the nickname that Dennis had laid off weeks ago when I told him it sounded too masculine. And yet when Chris said it…I never wanted to be called anything else ever again.

I hesitated. It was 6 o'clock on Sunday. On any given weekend at this time, I would be out with my friends at the wildest place we could get away with (which, at our age, wasn't really wild at all). And here was a sixteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-three and nineteen year old, offering for me to play It with them.

'Try and stop me!' I shouted, starting to run.

The next half-hour spent weaving in and out of Girls and Boys (eventually joined by the Groups and the Over 25s), It-ting or avoiding, was probably the most fun I'd ever spent in my life.

At last, the fifth and final copter made port, and our hosts, Michael and Molly stepped out. They really lived up to the grand entrances shown on camera, taking high deliberate steps like ponies, and hands loosely clenched at chest-level as if holding imaginary microphones. It was impressive…but kind of sad. It was almost like they'd forgotten how to be normal.

'Hi guys!' Hmm. Molly had clearly studied for years on the art of talking with every one of your perfect teeth on display.

'Great to see you again!' As, indeed, had Michael.

'Is it me or are they a li-ittle bit creepy?' Chris hissed in my ear. I jumped at his proximity – how had he managed to sneak up on me so fast?

'Marginally,' I managed to reply. 'But you know they're really nice.'

'Finalists…_This_is the X Factor house!' announced Michael.

'And _this_…is the key,' finished Molly, holding a tiny silver key aloft.

'I take it back,' I told him. 'They're creepy.'

Suddenly, Chris's face turned the colour of wax paper. 'Duck,' he whispered. Then he knocked me to the ground.

'What – ?' I started indignantly.

'Ssssh,' he shushed me. 'Remember how they came in a plane bigger than ours?'

'Uh-huh.'

'They brought company.'

Before I could even register his words, a flash went off in my right eye, effectively blinding me. 'I see.'

'Hey, let me go!'

Half a second after Chris yelled this, I felt myself yanked into the air by the back of my T-shirt, and I found myself choking in the grasp of some random big guy.

'Let the Hell go of me!' I shrieked, aiming my stiletto where the sun don't shine.

'Little brat!' he grunted, holding me at arm's length. 'We got a bitch here, Britney!'

'Alex, put her down,' instructed Molly briskly. 'And you know Britney's been putting on weight. Lisa's taking her place as executive producer.'

Alex smirked and Michael rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, we all know you fancy her. Now please let go of Diana.'

Alex moaned – but dropped me all the same. I fell a little too far and my knees crumpled before I could steady myself. Alex set me back on my feet irritably and I jerked away, vowing to teach myself single-combat before the week was out.

Chris (who had just been slammed down by another thug) took my hand protectively and glared daggers at Molly and Michael.

'Why in God's holy name did you bring _them?'_he demanded. 'We're supposed to be on Lockdown!'

Oliver Scuttish looked at him perplexedly. 'Yeah, but they need a headstart on photo files, don't they?'

'No.' Chris scowled. 'Not when they're manhandling little girls.'

'Excuse me,' I snapped, 'Mr. 'And there's me underage'!'

Chris looked at me. 'I'm trying to help you, here.'

'Yeah, well maybe I can look after myself.'

'GIVE ME THAT!'

Our heads turned immediately to see Jasmine and a girl wrestling over a camera just about in front of our faces. It had to happen, didn't it? The girl let go, Jasmine, not being ready, did likewise, and the camera flew through the air before clonking Chris square on the forehead. Well, I always did like boys (or Boys) at my feet.

'Chris, I am very sorry,' apologised Jasmine, almost in tears. 'She was taking pictures of you and…'

'It's fine,' Chris assured her. He seemed, luckily, to be unhurt. 'Should heal before the Live Shows, right?'

'Sure.'

'Phew.' He wiped his forehead theatrically – wincing as he brushed the purple bruise – and gave her a thumbs-up.

Molly and Michael trooped into the house, looking exhausted. 'We just got them settled in the adjoining house; they'll be back soon.'

I folded my arms grumpily. _'Excellent.'_

Michael smiled gently at me, but Molly muttered something that sounded like 'Spoilt cow.'

'Molly!' Daniel scolded. 'OK guys, how about the Grand tour?'

'Er…sure!' agreed Dylan (Over 25s) enthusiastically.

Daniel tapped Michael on the shoulder. 'I'll leave it to you, mate.'

Michael, presumably used to this type of thing, kindly took us inside. It immediately opened out into an enormous sitting room with about six doors leading off on either side. It looked incredible; cosy and fitted with comfy sofas and all the latest high-tech gadgets.

'Cool,' I breathed.

Michael nodded knowingly, looking around. For some reason, he seemed sad. 'Cool indeed.'

He didn't have to do much. All we wanted to do was be shown our bedrooms and who we would be sharing with. Turned out that I had Lorane and Robyn as roommates, and Chris was placed with Robbie and Thomas. The dormitories were every bit as brilliant as the main room, and by the time we had seen all of them, our eyes had misted over with awe.

Michael laughed at our inexperience of the high life. 'Come on, let's have some dinner. I'm starving!'

He rubbed his stomach pantomime-style and Lorane giggled, batting her eyelashes sweetly. By this time I had learnt that she flirted effortlessly with everyone, and anyone who thought she was serious was in for a bit of a shock. When I asked her how she did it she simply chuckled mysteriously.

We had a pleasant dinner, scoffing pizza and sending jibes and jokes by the bucketful up and down the enormous table until our stomachs hurt with suppressed laughter. Michael simply beamed around at all of us, clearly in his element. As for the judges, they had left somewhere in the midst of the tour. They had better things to do than watch their contestants settling in.

That evening I learned something about you. When you close a door, you sure enough open at least twelve windows, and give me the combination for my heart. That was coming from an atheist, by the way.


	3. A Whole New World

CHAPTER TWO

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

27th of September

X Factor house

Dear God

Do you sleep? Do you have a secretary to stand in while you catch forty winks? Or do you stay awake 24/7, sleeping only on Friday 13th, when people all over the world complain of lousy luck and dire karma? You must have to drink a Hell of a lot of coffee. Me, I have trouble getting to sleep in strange surroundings. Which was why, on my first night in the X Factor house and the first time I'd slept somewhere where I knew nobody, I had such a bout of insomnia that I decided sleep just wasn't going to be an option.

…_A new fantastic point of view_

_No-one to tell us no or where to go_

_Or say we're only dreaming…_

Having realized that dreams of falling and totally amazing minds, where nothing is ever quite as it seems were not going to come to me any time soon, I gave up and hauled myself out of bed. I don't have slippers, so I pinched a pair of Lorane's that was lying, unused by her bed. They had Sylvanians sewn to the toes, and looked incredibly kooky: just my sort of thing.

I crept downstairs stealthily, used to sneaking around in the early morning at home, while Mum was still tucked up in bed. I slunk into the Main Room – and a voice immediately leapt out at me, calm and impeccably polite. 'Ma'am, this is a stick-up. Give me the names of all this year's finalists and no-one will be harmed.'

I jumped, didn't I? But I was still about a foot off the ground when I recognised the voice.

'Bloody Hell, Chris!' I yelled, half-angry, half-laughing. 'You scared the music out of me!'

He spun around on his swivel chair and grinned. 'I thought I was gonna have to wait 'til tomorrow to do that.'

I glanced at the digital clock on one of the TV tables, the tiny numbers glowing in the dark like an electric-blue beacon. 1:15.

'Well technically,' I said softly. 'It's already tomorrow.'

His eyes focused on mine, shining as brightly as the time. 'In that case…'

He got up and kissed me on the cheek. 'Good morning.'

I backed away hastily. 'What –?'

'What?' He shrugged. 'It's the most popular way of saying good morning among friends.'

Friends. That word had never sounded so perfect, the Irish pronunciation only serving to make it sound soft and forgivable. Surely Dennis couldn't complain about me making a friend?

'Right.' I smiled. 'Friends.'

He looked at me anxiously. 'Are you OK? I was worried that that idiot hurt you…'

'I'm fine. Is your head feeling any better?'

He pulled a face. 'I'll survive. I always do.'

I wanted to ask him what he had had to live through before; what obstacles had been thrown in his path before he stumbled on the X Factor – but got sidetracked by the book he had abandoned on his chair. 'You're reading the KLZ autobiography?'

He laughed, caught out. 'It's not for the pictures. I just like reading about people who've made it from nothing…which is pretty much how people view Ireland nowadays. Did you know that the Irish were persecuted nearly as much as the Africans?'

I shook my head. I vaguely remembered a History lesson, years ago, but I couldn't've quoted it from the textbook. 'You'll have to tell me sometime.'

He nodded obligingly, and then glanced at the book. 'You wanna read it with me?'

'By 'read', you mean the text?'

'You can look at the pictures if you want; I'm easy.'

I grinned. 'Thanks.'

Approximately ten minutes later, we were curled up on the couch together, flipping through the pages as fast as Chris could skim them, halting only when we got a particularly good shirtless shot. I had never quite gotten over how fit KLZ were, even now, quite a few years into their reign of the R&B kingdom.

As we browsed, we chatted, barely noticing as the minutes turned into hours, still only about thirty pages into the book. He told me things that I've never forgotten, and things that I didn't absorb, lost in the simple beauty of his voice. I talked until I didn't even know what I was saying; until I caved in and just focused on not mentioning Dennis.

It was probably about 4:00 am when the rest of the Boys and Girls came in, rubbing their eyes.

'Hey, could you keep it down?' yawned Robbie Ened. 'We're not all nocturnal.'

'Oooh, are you reading KLZ?' squealed Lorane. 'I _love_them!'

'Is she wearing your slippers?' enquired Robyn mildly, and Lorane absentmindedly slipped them off my feet and onto hers before settling into the couch and taking hold of a corner of the biography so she could steady it. I swear her eyes glazed over as she lit upon Ian, beautifully naked from the waist up.

'Do you think any girl has ever actually read the book?' Thomas Scythe asked conversationally.

Chris chuckled. 'I doubt it. Too much to absorb from the pictures.'

Robbie squinted short-sightedly at the photo. 'Is it just me, or are they on steroids?'

Thomas leapt up, already pulling a fiver from the pocket of his pyjama trousers. 'Bet you they aren't. They're appearing as guests in Week 4 so we can ask.'

Robbie's eyes lit up mischievously. 'I'll take that bet.'

Chris rolled his eyes at me. He had told me how close Robbie and Thomas had become in Daniel's LA home, forever gambling on the stupidest things, just so they could do something together. Well, that was his version.

Robyn scratched her dark head sleepily. 'So what are we going to do?'

We all looked at each other. What couldn't we do? We were young, famous, and finalists. The world was practically our medicine ball.

'How about a movie?' suggested Lorane.

'Dibs on choice!' I scrambled over to the cupboards where Michael had told us that the 'props' were stored – and sure enough, was faced with shelves and shelves of DVDs, CDs, PSP games and gadgets. I gawped at the movies. They were arranged in alphabetical order and seemed to go on forever.

'Try eenie-meenie-moe,' called Chris helpfully from the sofa. 'Works for me when I'm deciding which bit of my homework to do first.'

His words brought me back to reality with a sharp thud. I realized how young he was. Did I really want to be one of those women who picked up toyboys twenty years younger than themselves? There really wasn't much difference here. The simple fact was: he was far too young for me.

I shook this away, and willingly heeded his words, tapping a few cases blindly, muttering the old nursery rhyme that my sister and I used to use, long ago, to decide who got to choose the bedtime story Mum read to us.

I alighted on – of all things – Bugsy Malone. I remembered fondly how I had been chosen as Tallulah in some school play years before; how proud I'd been. Call me pathetic, but I loved this movie.

It was as I was taking my seat once more, a firm hold on the flicker, that Triple K and Dylan Lavem shuffled in. I'd wager that no-one was more shocked than me to see that Triple K wore slippers! Black and blue stripy ones, but still. It was amazing just how _tame_the boys looked in jammies, the material baggy enough so that even Kevin and Kenneth's fused elbows weren't too disconcerting. It looked like they were simply brushing together.

'Hey boys!' Lorane's greeting was cheery and, unlike the rest of us, seemed to have gotten over the initial fear that Triple K inflicted on you. It wasn't that they looked so bad (in fact, they were really fit), but they had that kind of tortured soul/black gangsta air around them that just made you jumpy. Maybe Lorane's natural aura of generosity and warmth smothered it, like air freshener over spice.

'Hey,' Kris Saley grunted. We had already learned that the twins rarely talked, but for a couple of comments when Michael had given us the grand tour. 'Watcha watching?'

'Bugsy Malone,' Lorane informed him friendlily. 'Here, scootch up Di, sit down everyone!'

Without a word, the twins simultaneously sank into the same spacious armchair, their movements smooth and precise; an unbroken routine. Kris took the space I offered and gave me a tense smile. His muscles twitched a little like he'd forgotten how to express any other emotion but that sulky expression branded on his other handsome features. I grinned at him to remind him that there were other expressions available.

Chris stretched lazily. Can I get anyone a drink?'

'Can you make tea?' asked Robbie.

He pulled a face. 'Nu-uh.'

'No thanks.'

I stared at him. 'You don't know how to make _tea?'_

He shook his head, flushing.

I sighed and heaved myself up off the sofa. 'Come on kiddo, I'll show you how.'

Kendall Root grinned and made that whipping sound that I can't get the hang of. I glared at him.

Chris watched studiously as went through the process of making the hot drink. Living with a mother who was old enough to have a twenty-one year old daughter, brewing tea had become second nature, despite the fact that I didn't drink it.

We heard Africans With Attitude and the remainder of the Over 25s clattering into the Main Room, the sound immediately increasing by about five notches.

I flinched. 'They'll wake M&M if they don't watch out.'

'M&M?'

'Michael and Molly,' I explained.

He nodded wisely and jumped to it when I asked him to pour out the boiling water. He was scrupulously careful, not spilling a drop, and I found myself staring at his hands. Unlike Dennis's they were smaller and curiously white. In fact…I glanced surreptiously down at my own palms…a lot like mine.

'Diana?'

I snapped to. 'Mmm?'

He gave me a long look, as if he was trying to figure something out. 'Nothing.'

I vented my irritation inwardly. Why did boys have to be so fucking complicated?

'Come on,' I dictated when the tea was finally ready. 'We're missing the movie.'

Sure enough, by the time we got there, Bugsy was sipping a milkshake with Blousey while the fat waitress looked on distastefully. I winced; I'd never like this scene. Too soppy for my taste.

'Excellent,' said Robbie gratefully as Chris handed him the steaming cup. 'I'm parched.'

'If you want, I can throw a bucket of water over your head,' offered Thomas.

Robbie appeared to take him seriously – or maybe that was his just his natural quality of earnestness. 'Nah, I'm good.'

I sat back and let the old-fashioned film wash over me, the minutes ticking by timelessly on the clock. 4:30, 4:45, 5:15…

'Hey, where're the Beach Babes?' exclaimed China Ovam suddenly.

I shrugged. 'They were asleep when I left.'

'Ditto,' added Lorane.

Thomas's eyes suddenly glinted wickedly. 'Oi.' He turned to Robbie. 'I dare you to check on them.'

Two spots of pink appeared on Robbie's cheeks. 'Nu-uh!'

'Uh-huh!' insisted Thomas. 'Double-dare, can't back out!'

My jaw dropped. I knew that boys were supposed to develop in maturity slower than girls, but this was surely ridiculous? Even Chris looked taken aback.

'Here,' Thomas tossed him a camera from the equipment cupboard. 'Take a picture to prove you did it.'

'What are you, a reporter?' Lorane quipped, looking hard at Robbie to check his reaction. I did so too, and was surprised to see him unexpectedly grin.

'I'll do it.'

'Yeah!' cheered Thomas.

'Good luck,' Frieda Tremaine called out uncertainly as he left the room.

He returned ten minutes later, clutching the prop and looking like he'd seen something worthy of Aphrodite.

'Gimme!' Thomas snatched it. He pressed some buttons, gaze fixed intently on the screen – and then his eyes widened. 'Bloody Hell!'

Although technically disgusted, I was also curious, as any human would be. 'What is it?'

Agreeably, he tossed me the camera. I caught it deftly and then focused on what had shocked him so. There, splayed on a double mattress, were the four 'Beach Babes'… in silk negligees and waterproof make-up.

Upon seeing it, Chris's eyebrows shot all the way up into his hairline. 'Well.' He bravely attempted speech. 'I guess they take the phrase 'always be prepared' seriously.

'You're telling me!' I agreed, staring at the picture. I mean, apart from prostitutes, who even _does_that?

Oh God. I was living in a house with whores.

Time passed gradually and, soon enough, it was just about a reasonable time to be awake.

As soon as the film was over, Bethany Blast stood and, striding over to the window, threw the curtains wide open. I shielded my face with my hand in preparation – and found myself staring through my fingers at a sky the colour of fish skins and enough rain falling from it to flood the Titanic.

I took my hand away cautiously. Where was the brilliant sunshine that I had gotten so used to in Barcelona? Was Ireland really this miserable?

Chris lifted his face to the sky, as if basking in the gloom. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled peacefully. 'Beautiful, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' breathed Robyn, running her fingers through her hair in utter contentment.

Well. That all depended on your definition of 'beautiful'. Weren't there a couple of artists who would spend months painting a puddle and then declare it the masterpiece of the century? Well, for anyone who admired their work, yes, this scene would be beautiful. Unfortunately, I was not one of them.

'You know,' remarked Chris. 'I grew up in this country and it still gets me how wonderful rain can look from a particular perspective.'

'Absolutely,' replied Robyn dreamily. 'I mean…you could find a whole world in that sky.'

'Yeah, if you're looking for a world of fish,' I muttered before I could stop myself.

The two Irish residents turned to me. 'What?'

'Nothing,' I amended. 'I just don't really see what's beautiful about…well, that.'

Robyn looked at me for a minute and then turned away, shrugging. 'Well, then I can't help you.'

Chris seemed more ready to give me the benefit of the doubt, gaping at me with those devastating green eyes. He soon recovered, to my relief, and began to speak. 'I guess it's more about what you _will_see than what you're seeing right now.'

I wasn't following him. 'Excuse me?'

'Here.'

He spun me around so that we were both facing the window, his hands on my waist just about where I curved to perch on the sofa. 'Look. What do you see?'

'Rain,' I told him honestly.

'OK. What does rain do?'

I twisted around to stare at him. 'Sorry, I didn't do Geography A-level.'

He smiled fondly (patronizingly?) and started, slowly, to clarify his point. 'Rain means greenery and water for animals to drink. Rain means crops to feed starving families. Rain means…' His eyes suddenly went completely clear, startling me. 'Rain means life.'

I looked into those large, dark eyes, and I saw what he meant. OK, so I still didn't get why he and Robyn loved the rain so much – nor why it was so lovely to look at. But I saw why he had not been raised to believe, like me, that rain equals misery and depression, however much it is needed. I couldn't help wondering, though, what he thought about the Sun. I'd have to ask him sometime. But not now. 'Cause that might break the spell…

'So!' announced Lorane widening her eyes meaningfully at me. 'What's on the itinerary for the next couple of hours?'

There were a few mumbles and moans, and eventually Camilla Clark proposed that we all lie down and get some rest. I agreed, suddenly feeling exhausted. Boy, was I going to regret staying up until 6:00 am when I next awoke.

Still, I snuggled down on the same sofa as Chris – but not too close – and shut my eyes. Because sometimes, shutting your eyes helps.


	4. Rabbit Heart

CHAPTER THREE

RABBIT HEART (RAISE IT UP)

27th of September

X Factor house

Dear God

Up 'til now, I bet you've been as confused as me as to the purpose of Lockdown. Almost as confused as me. Sure, I knew that we had to be hidden from the general public until the finalists were revealed ect, but why bother to choose us a whole week before putting the show on air? I'd guess I'd assumed it was so we could all get to know each other, get in some extra rehearsing, and enjoy fully our last week of normality. I was right about all that – but there was something else, something essential, that every one of us had missed. What was this? Read on.

…_I must become a lion-hearted girl_

_Ready for a fight_

_Before I make the final sacrifice…_

It is always pleasant to come to in someone's arms – as I first discovered with Dennis. But when those arms are shaking you – however gently – awake, the novelty definitely starts to wear off.

'Diana,' a voice breathed. 'Sweetie, can you shift for me?'

I blinked blearily, and Michael's face swam into focus above mine. 'Hey,' I greeted him drowsily, automatically brushing my fringe away from my face.

He carefully put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me upright with no visible effort. 'Up we get.'

I glanced at the clock, which notified me that it was eight in the morning. I groaned. Two hours sleep and I was feeling like I'd been smashed over the head with a lead weight.

'I feel like Death,' I moaned. 'Cooled down,' I added, shivering.

Michael pulled a face. 'That idiot Barry turned down the heating. I've just cranked it up.'

I nodded at him in gratitude, and then craned to find Chris, crashed out on the couch beside me.

'Hey, how come you didn't wake him up?' I half-complained, slightly stunned at how beautiful he looked when he was sleeping.

Michael shrugged. 'You were the closest to me.'

Not deigning to answer, I rose so that he could wake Chris. I glanced around, and saw that the other contestants were also up, chatting quietly or reading books.

Once Chris was alert, Michael moved into the middle of the room, always the showman.

'Camera room. Now.'

'Why is it called 'the camera room' anyway?' Thomas Scythe muttered as we trooped into it.

'Because it's where we're gonna go to talk about how we're feeling on tape so it can be shown to twelve million people when the live shows get underway,' recited Alexis Aaron smoothly as she brushed past them.

Thomas, having heard none of this, wolf-whistled pointedly at her tits.

'I never could do that,' remarked Chris.

He didn't even have a chance to pompously tell him that it was easy before Michael strode in and told us to sit.

I took a look around the 'camera room', and was surprised to see that it looked just like my classroom back in Lancashire. At least, there were nineteen desks rather than twenty-five, and the board was black rather than a modern white, but everything else was pretty much exactly like a room in a secondary school should be.

I took a seat beside Chris and looked ahead at Michael.

Michael himself, always so cheery on TV, was looking exhausted and ready to kill as he waited for the others to settle down. At last, when the Beach Babes had bickered on for twenty minutes, he took his microphone from where it was lying on his desk, pressed the speaker end hard on the board, and dragged it all the way down with a truly ungodly sound.

A shocked silence.

Satisfied that he'd finally got everyone's undivided attention, he wrote one word across the board.

CO-OPERATION

.

'Co-operation,' he stated. 'Can anyone tell me the definition of it?'

I saw Robbie silently hand Thomas a fiver as Robyn's hand shot into the air, and remembered that Chris had told me that he'd bet that she was a bookworm from the first moment he'd seen her.

'Robyn?' Michael complied.

'Working with someone or helping them for a particular purpose,' she snapped back immediately.

He looked impressed. 'Exactly. Chris?'

Chris knitted his fingers together nervously.

'Why is it so important for you guys to co-operate in the X Factor house?'

He relaxed. 'So that the press can't write stuff about us being bitchy or jealous.'

Michael nodded approvingly. 'You're absolutely right.'

. Presenting a united front even though you are in direct competition.

He chalked it up.

'Now, is there anything we can do to help achieve this?'

Kenneth Want's hand came up into the air so stealthily that it took Michael the best part of five minutes to even notice that it was right in front of his nose.

'Yes?'

'Groups can't just stick together,' he stated quietly. 'We have to interact with others.'

Michael nodded a little bemusedly and obligingly put it up there. Indeed, we were all surprised. No-one had expected a conjoined twin to put in anything about _not_sticking together. What choice did Kenneth and Kevin have but to stay firmly joined as one? Even Kris seemed shocked.

Michael cleared his throat in an attempt to break the tension. 'Anything else?'

Quite a few hands were up before he plumped for China Ovam.

'We should spend time in the main rooms.'

He accepted this. 'Yeah, you'll be given a schedule with allocated periods of free time – much of which you'll be expected to carry out in the main rooms. There are lots of ways to do this: we have bored games, movies, books, computers…whatever. It's just to ensure that you aren't spending all your time cooped up in your room devouring dictionaries' – he glanced at Robyn – 'or otherwise. Yes, Alexis?'

Alexis ran a couple of fingers through her hair before suggesting that we shouldn't bring the competition off-camera.

'Yes!' Michael agreed enthusiastically. 'I don't care how fierce it gets out there; you are not to let it interfere with your day-to-day lives in this house.' He glared at the Beach Babes, doodling on their desks in obvious contempt. 'Sandy?' The golden-haired girl jumped, and then made an attempt to look innocent. For a moment, even I believed that ice wouldn't melt in her mouth as she batted her lashes cutely.

'What did I just say?'

She shrugged. 'Honey, I don't know what you're on, but I _ain't_leaving my girlfriends to hang with _those_freaks!'

She indicated Triple K, who immediately stood, eyes ablaze with fury. Chris and I hurriedly restrained them before things could get ugly.

'This is what I'm talking about,' concluded Michael. 'And this isn't gonna go on.'

Salty raised an eyebrow. 'What-frickin'-ever.'

I rolled my eyes as I took my seat once more, hoping that the Beach Babes were out by Week 2 – and before I lost my mind wondering at just how daring they were.

'Anyway,' continued Michael, happy that the minor dispute was past. 'Any more suggestions? Diana?'

'We could maybe…share out chores and suchlike?' I proposed.

He beamed at her. 'Selfless and clever. Well done.'

I flushed delightedly. 'And maybe the judges could help out as well?'

Michael grinned sympathetically at her. 'Well good luck with that, sweetie.'

I smiled wickedly. 'I'm sure I can persuade them.'

The next person Michael picked was Frieda. 'We could accompany each-other to rehearsals and other activities.'

He shrugged. 'That's kind of a given. But yes, it would be nice if you could.'

She scowled at him.

For a while other suggestions were put forth and discussed, and when everyone was out of ideas, Michael indicated that everyone should look at the board.

Very carefully, he wrote out this phrase:

. The press are the enemy. Stand strong against them to make sure that they don't win.

Then he very slowly smiled around at everyone and declared:

'Continued in tomorrow's lesson.'

Then he left the room, just pausing to add 'You can spend the rest of the day in the main room,' before the door shut behind him.

'Well.' Camilla raised her eyebrows. 'He's a charmer.'


	5. See The Sun

CHAPTER FOUR

SEE THE SUN

27th of September

X Factor house

Dear God

You're a good guy – or so I've been told. Answer me this: why did you make war possible? Look at World War II. Think how much time we wasted arguing over whether a certain race deserved to walk free. Wouldn't it be better if everyone just minded their own business? But I guess the world will have its bad eggs, and you're just the chicken who lays them.

…_Yes they'll ask you where you've been_

_And you'll have to tell them again and again_

_And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day…_

I had spent so long in the Main Room last night that walking in again was like greeting an old friend that I had gotten just a little too close to. Or maybe that was just Chris, who grinned at me before slumping into a chair.

'I got a craving for some _Simpsons,'_announced Lorane.

There was a room-wide groan from everyone Over 25, and squeals of appreciation from the rest of us.

'Majority rules!' sang Robyn, throwing herself to her knees to choose a disk.

She selected 'Much Apu About Nothing' and we settled down to watch.

'I don't really like this episode,' I declared after a while. 'I don't really _get_the message of 'go back where you came from'.'

'Well, _I_think it would be best if we _all_did that,' said Salty pointedly, glaring across at Triple K.

Kendall stood, his head barely level with her chest. 'Alright that's it –'

'Don't,' advised Kris, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder.

'They're not worth it,' agreed Robbie, not looking away from the TV.

'He's right,' Bikini sneered. 'Still worth a Hell of a lot more than you.'

Kendall leapt – and was yanked back immediately by Kris, who clearly had had a lot of practise in restraining his buddies.

Unfortunately, no-one was watching the twins, who, the moment Kris was occupied made their move.

In less than ten seconds, the volume was about up to the level of 'bitch fight' and Kenneth, Kevin, and the Beach Babes were rolling around on the floor, yelling and screaming.

The Over 25s were shouting, Africans With Attitude were squealing, and the Boys and Lorane were trying ineffectually to break up the fight. As for Robyn, she was just staring gormlessly into space, eyes shining.

'I have to deal with this every day at home,' she stated at last. 'I don't want to here as well.'

And with that, she buried her head deep into the cushions of the chair she was sitting on and made no further move.

As for me, I was getting really fed up. Robyn was clearly really upset by the proceedings and no-one was noticing. The guys were acting like children and I seemed to be the only one who realized just how stupid it all was.

I took a deep breath. This, I knew, was going to require every last ounce of oxygen I could get out of my system. 'SHUT UP!' I screamed.

Everything froze as suddenly as if I'd clicked a stopwatch, and even Sunny let go of her handful of Kevin's shirt: I found myself wondering if she had just wanted to test how muscly he was.

Now that they were all staring at me, I didn't really know what to say.

'Look at Robyn!' I managed, pointing out where she crouched, face-first in the upholstery.

Lorane immediately ran to her, and set about the complicated process of comfort. I tutted disapprovingly at the Beach Babes. The twins, I knew, simply had a fragile temperament.

'I still think they're freaks,' muttered Bikini.

'I swear –'

'Kevin.' Chris held up a hand for peace. 'It's OK.'

Kevin stared at him. 'What makes you think your opinion matters to me?'

'Mate.' Kendall pulled an apologetic face at Chris. 'Sorry; he gets crabby when he's tired.'

Kevin punched him with his good hand and Lorane stamped her foot, shod in a hot-pink boot. 'Are we going or not?'

I zipped my lovely loose black sweater (Dennis's – I wore it on Bootcamp second week) up to the neck and slipped my hands into the huge double pocket around where my belly-button was. Lorane cooed over me in that cute way she had, and Robyn smiled wearily, her eyes still a bit red.

Dylan pulled his woolly hat as far down as it would go, though it only covered half his ears. 'It hasn't stopped raining.'

Chris looked at him as if he were crazy. _'Duh._Rain doesn't just _stop_in Ireland. Once it starts, you can expect about a week of it.'

'Are you _kidding_me?' Thomas exclaimed. 'How'm I supposed to keep up the tan?'

I looked at him carefully. He was around the colour of the paler rays of a setting sun; a hue I'd presumed was natural. I mean, you didn't get that type of tan in London.

He caught me staring. 'Fine; I go to a salon. Do you see one around here?'

'Which is exactly why we're staying here,' interrupted Sandy smoothly. 'So we can explore the merits of this dump.'

'Dump' was a bit harsh, really. True, it was a creaky old country house, but whoever the residents were, they had obviously strived long and hard to bring it up to the complex code of modernism.

Camilla seemed to agree, scowling coldly at her. 'Where did you live, Buckingham Palace?'

Sunny snorted. 'Hell no; an oak tree would be better than this hole.'

'I don't have time for this,' Robyn stated calmly. 'C'mon guys, we're going for a walk.'

'Good riddance,' muttered Salty as we swanned out of the door.

Once outside, I instantly pulled my hood up, loving the feel of it flopping over my forehead. I inhaled deeply. Mmm. It smelled like him. Plus, now, it had that extra memory of getting to the holidays, which somehow made it even warmer. I would always remember that day, as much as the holidays and my first audition. I had been standing onstage with five others who could have each had two heads for all I cared – all that mattered was the judge's verdict. And when they said that we were through… well, you can't understand it unless you've experienced it.

I felt a presence beside me as I started to trudge through the deliciously green grass, and knew that Chris had fallen into step beside me. I reached out wordlessly for his hand, and felt him grasping it barely half a second later. I felt the wind whip almost through me and was glad that I'd never found my 'inner woman' when it came to high heels. I was probably overdoing the 'natural' look though: no make-up, hair loose and unbrushed, an outfit that could have been assembled from the leftovers of a jumble sale, and now I was soaking wet as well.

I felt Chris's eyes on me and struggled not to respond.

'You look really nice,' he said.

'Thanks,' I murmured, gaze fixed on the ground. Usually, when Dennis complimented me, I'd kiss him in reply. Well, I could hardly do that to Chris, could I?

So silence lingered for a while. I imagined broken glass beneath my feet, and die set in motion to determine what would next be uttered.

Eventually Chris took the burden. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he started 'So, er…what are you usually doing around this time?'

Amazing really, how you can jabber away all night and not have anything to say in the morning. 'Um…I guess, writing music, practising my singing, catching up on last night's homework…'

I heard a single-syllabed chuckle. 'Tell me about it. My Maths teacher's a nightmare; completely obsessed with numbers.'

I giggled. 'Try having an English teacher who doesn't know where apostrophes go!'

Then we were both laughing and we were back where we started; perfect once more. Oh God. I was so confused. Maybe it was the fresh air. After all, how many chances do you get in a lifetime to be strolling in fresh countryside with not a road for at least kilometres? I mean, it was _scarily_ quiet out there; I could hear my own breath as well as seeing it.

'It's amazing, isn't it?' observed Chris. 'You could walk for hours and just be going around in a circle.'

'Yeah.' But was that a bad or a good thing?

'Hurry up guys!' Thomas called from ahead. 'We're gonna leave you behind!'

'We'll catch up!' called Chris.

'Save yourself time and do it now!'

I grinned. Smart-aleck Bethany was going to prove a real handful over the next few weeks, I was sure. She just didn't have an 'off' button. Maybe it came of being a tomboy.

'OK.' Chris came to a halt, causing me to as well. 'How 'bout a race?'

I looked up at him, his hair even more windswept than yesterday, the wind painting his cheeks pink. 'What?'

'You know: ready set go?' He jogged on the spot a little to demonstrate, and I didn't bother to point out that I knew what a race was.

'Alright.' I paced myself, thanking whatever I believed in back then that I had chosen my new Nike trainers for footwear. 'Then what you waiting for?'

'This.'

And the next moment he was off, running away from me. I gave chase, thinking of it more as pursuing than racing. This was the first time I'd ever physically followed a boy. With Dennis I always took the lead. I preferred it that way, and he never complained.

Now, as I trailed Chris relentlessly, I wondered if this was what it was like to be the doormat in a relationship. Unlike my sister, I had never let that happen. I was tough. Hell, I was DJ. And now here I was, running fast enough to lose all the air that I usually saved for singing power songs, just to keep up with Chris. Was I high, or what?

''Bout time!' remarked Lorane when we finally made it to their crowd. 'I've been yelling myself hoarse here!'

It didn't sound like it. She had a voice as Southern and sweet as Jasmine's, and every word from her mouth was as easy to decipher as Tinie Tempah's lyrics. Judging by Melodia's comments at my audition, I was the opposite.

'No you haven't,' confirmed Robyn mildly. 'You've been listening to Thomas.'

'I think we all have,' China winced, massaging her earlobes. 'I hope we can all agree on one thing Thomas; you won't need a microphone.'

Thomas smirked arrogantly. 'I do my best.'

Lorane threw him a look of deepest loathing and then stalked away.

I glanced apologetically at Chris and then followed her, Robyn already halfway there.

Lorane was standing tall – on the edge of a cliff. True, there was a knee-length fence, but otherwise nothing that could keep her plunging to the ground if she put one foot wrong.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly toppled over. Robyn, on the other hand, kept walking until she reached Lorane and put an arm around her denim-jacketed shoulders.

'Lorrie? You OK?'

I couldn't hear Lorane's answer, but I detected a laugh from Robyn. 'We knew _that_already!'

I desperately wanted to get closer, but couldn't. I've always been terrified of heights. I can't even take the window seat of a double-decker bus without feeling like I'm going to throw up. I have to sit with my back against it or with someone else in beside me.

'DJ?' Robyn turned back to me. 'You OK?'

'I don't like cliff-edges,' I explained.

At that, Lorane spun around. Her eyes were shining, and her pale face was the colour of the top layer of petals from a rose. 'Then you've got to see this.'

I wondered if she'd heard me right. 'But I –'

'I'm serious.' She reached out and tugged me toward them. 'This will totally convert you.'

I resisted, but she was damn strong; her muscles stuck out like Madonna's. Except they looked better.

She dragged me to the border and I obstinately squeezed my eyes shut. I was not looking out there for love nor money.

'Oh my God!' Robyn suddenly screamed.

'What?' Well, it had to happen sooner or later, didn't it?

I gaped. We were standing on the edge of the world. All around us was a clear, upturned bowl covered with sheets of translucent grey silk. That's exactly what it looked like. The rain had ceased – and had left behind a view that beat the Grand Canyon hands down. I noticed, averting my gaze to the ground, that grass was not far beneath, but, looking straight ahead, you didn't even notice it. This was total, infinite, wonder.

I heard Lorane laugh, satisfied. 'Told ya.'

'Girls?'

'Lorrie?'

'Rob?'

'DJ?'

The distant cries of the others were starting to grate on my sensitive ears, so the others and I began to walk back, leaving the sky behind for some other unexpecting individual. We didn't really mind going. We were never going to forget something like that.

As we made our way to the rest, Lorane began to dance – of a fashion – skipping over daisies and weaving in and out of the long grass, so one minute it was up to her ankles, and the next, barely brushing her toes. Caught up in her rhythm, I started to copy her, perfecting what I'd thought were long-forgotten steps of my childhood ballet lessons.

Robyn watched us wistfully. 'See, I express myself with song rather than movement.'

'OK, sing to us,' I encouraged. 'I haven't heard you yet.'

She looked confused, suddenly in the spotlight she appeared to shun normally. 'What should I sing?'

'Anything you want!' trilled Lorane. 'Just not Robbie Williams,' she added.

Robyn frowned jokily. 'Damn.'

Lorane and I politely stood still as she began her song. I didn't recognise it, but I picked up the beat fairly quickly. That was definitely one of my strengths when it came to music. Within minutes, Lorane and I were twirling and hopping all over the field, revelling in the tune.

She came to the chorus. ''Cause I'm gonna love you

For the rest of my life

I'm holding this feeling

In this heart of mine…'

To my surprise, she began to dance, almost subconsciously, simply following her voice. Lorane and I stared at her as she spun and leapt, the wind appearing to carry her through the air. Flying without wings.

She stopped, abruptly brought to Earth, the spell broken. 'What's the matter?'

I shook my head hastily, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. 'Nothing. You're… wow.'

She blushed.

'GIRLS! GET YOUR HOT ASSES OVER HERE!'

I let my mouth stretch open about five centimetres until my lip nearly brushed my chin. 'That cheeky bastard!'

'Still wondering why I was upset?' Lorane enquired ironically.

'Ah.' I got it.

Robyn shrugged. 'I went to a co-ed primary school; I know boys.'

I shuddered. The only time I'd shared a room with more than one boy was when I'd gone to high-school dances and clubbing outside of school hours. The boys there were absolute nightmares; drunk and groping and hopelessly out of time to the music. I couldn't imagine going to the same school as these foreign creatures – sharing a house with even just Chris, Robbie, and Thomas and Triple K was kind of freaking me out.

Robyn noticed my discomfort. 'Amazingly…they're not that bad when you get to know them. I mean, there're a couple of true _terrors'_– she flinched – 'but they're surprisingly rare.'

Lorane nodded. 'I've been with my share of men –'

'Oooh!' I quipped.

' – and either I've got impeccable taste, or boys are actually normal,' she continued.

'Excuse me.' Robyn spoke up. 'Are we _back?'_

All three of us gazed up at where we'd ended up – the X Factor house.

'Wow,' I announced. 'Time flies when you're having fun!'

'Absolutely.' Suddenly, the others were standing behind us.

'Home sweet home,' drawled Kenneth.


	6. Side Chick

CHAPTER FIVE

SIDE CHICK

27th of September

X Factor house

Dear God

However many Christians deny it, you have made mistakes. Whether we're talking about making over half of the world water, or making us all different so people can discriminate, there is no way you can contradict it. So you have no right to judge me, or anyone else. I know you think you're a big man; sending me to Hell simply because I messed up, but you must be the biggest hypocrite either on or off the face of this Earth. Anyway, do read on.

…_We could just be friends_

_Now let me tell you 'bout a boy who's goin' la-la_

_Try'na get my ya-ya…_

I didn't know why, but I was absolutely exhausted. Whether it was from my two hours of sleep last night or the overdose of fresh air, all I wanted to do was sleep.

Michael took one look at me and ordered me into my bedroom. I complied happily, unsure whether I should even undress. In the end, I just fell face-first into my duvet and left the world behind.

As always, my dream made no sense. As a matter of fact, it was a music video. To 'Start of Something New', of all songs. Except, instead of the usual clips of Troy and Gabriella, the lyrics were set to Chris and I; all the moments we'd spent together so far. I'll tell you this: it was amusing, but it freaked me out a bit. I couldn't be in love with Chris…could I? I still had Dennis.

As if on cue, Dennis popped into my mind. But his back was turned and he was walking away. And the sun rose in his wake, as if symbolizing a brand new right of way.

I awoke – and realized that I was crying. I touched the tears, fresh on my face, wondering what all this meant. I had known Chris for one day, no matter if it felt like forever.

Just like that, the dream vanished. And no matter how I tried, I could not remember it. Just as well, really.

As soon as I was fully tuned into the real world, I dragged myself downstairs.

The others were in the kitchen, laughing and joking over a lunch of what looked like bread and chocolate, with bottles of Evian water. Having not had any breakfast, I was hungry enough that this looked like a feast worthy of Kings.

I pulled up a chair at the table and grabbed a bread roll, for once not caring about carbs. I was too ravenous for that.

I had purposefully chosen the chair next to Robyn and opposite Chris, who was smiling sympathetically across the table at me. 'Good sleep?'

I nodded uncertainly. 'Best I ever had.'

'Chocolate?' Alexis proffered a Galaxy bar.

'No thanks.' I gestured to the bread. 'I'm set.'

She shrugged. 'Suit yourself.' And then, to my shock, she unwrapped the bar, put it between two slices of white bread, and bit.

I stared at her. She had the figure of Beyonce and the cheekbones of Johnny Depp – and there she was stuffing herself with empty calories. I eyed the chocolate piled on the table warily. Oh well, you only live once.

But a few seconds later, I had the perfect sandwich. And it tasted like nothing on Earth. In a good way.

'I can't remember the last time I had a sweet sandwich,' Robyn commented. 'The closest I ever got was a sugar one when I was four – and that was just an experiment at a friend's house.'

I nodded vaguely. 'Yeah, you do weird things at that age.'

'Too true.'

China and Frieda were looking very pale.

'If you're up sick all night,' the latter burst out, 'you'll be sorry.'

'What were we supposed to do?' Thomas asked conversationally. 'This is all there was.'

'We did just go on a walk,' Dylan said fairly. 'I'm sure we could have found a store somewhere.'

'There wasn't a place for miles!' protested Robbie.

A bit of an argument ensued, if partly in fun. I happily joined in, hurling accusations and insults at everyone in my reach until we were all convulsed with laughter.

Remarkable really, how quickly a house could become a home.

'I'm bored,' announced Sandy.

Needless to say, we ignored her. But she did have a point. We'd been sitting aimlessly in the kitchen for ages, and all the food was long consumed. The Beach Babes, however, had only joined us ten minutes ago, wearing Lycra shorts and sports bras damp with sweat. They had eaten nothing but a few crusts and didn't look any the worse for it.

'Actually, I'm a little fed up,' muttered Lorane to me. 'What are we supposed to be doing?'

I had no idea. 'Why don't we go in the Main room? At least it'll be comfortable.'

Chris stood immediately. 'Come on then.'

On the way down the corridor, China fell into step beside me. 'He's such a nice boy,' she remarked. 'Would've loved a guy like him when I was your age.'

I nodded doubtfully. Where was she heading with this?

'He is a little young,' she admitted. 'But hey, we all want a toyboy!'

'I used to be one,' grinned Dylan, catching up. 'It really helps you be more attentive.'

Hang on. Where they _recommending_Chris to me?

'Excuse me,' I began. 'Are you –'

'And so good-looking, too,' China continued. 'One would need to snap him up before the fans get a glimpse of him!'

'And you look so great together,' added Dylan. 'Such a cute couple!'

'I'm sorry,' I cut in. 'I'm gonna go catch up with Chris.'

And I left them looking satisfied that I'd be running to tell Chris that I wanted to start a relationship immediately. What I was actually doing was checking to see where Frieda was at.

'…and such a great sense of style!' I was able to catch as I walked into the Main Room. 'She could fix you up like Daniel Merriweather!'

'Um…'

'Chris,' I interrupted, smiling sweetly. 'Can I talk to you for a second?'

'Sure.' He shot me a look that was half bewilderment and half gratitude and followed me up to my bedroom.

I shut the door behind us and bolted it. 'Do you know what the Overs are up to?'

He looked relieved. 'They were being weird to you too? Frieda was going on about how…' He trailed off. 'Oh.'

In any other situation, I would've laughed: he appeared so amusingly confused. 'Yeah.'

'Well that's sweet!' he said brightly (too brightly?). 'And there's no real problem, is there?'

I hesitated. Now would most probably be the best time to tell him about Dennis. How could I leave him thinking that I was single – just not interested? Because believe me, I was interested. But I'm no cheater. 'Chris –'

'Oi!' we heard Kris yell. 'You two making out?'

'No!' I called indignantly, blushing, at the same time I identified Dylan's voice reprimanding him with the well-chosen words: 'Hey, let the sweethearts be.'

'We're not sweethearts!' I shouted irritably.

Chris looked a little hurt. 'Is it that bad a concept?'

If possible, I went even redder. This was _not_ turning out well. 'I'm sorry. I'm tired.'

He didn't look pacified. 'You just slept for an hour.'

OK, this was really starting to piss me off. 'Chris…'

'Go out with me?'

I balked, although he said it perfectly pleasantly, even adding a question mark at the end. Right, I had a very basic, but complicated choice to make. Go out with him and risk jeopardizing all my policies on girl/boy relationships? Or refuse and maybe alienate Chris against me for the rest of the competition? Huh. Or…

'As friends?' I proposed.

For a second – just a second – I saw something like hurt flash into his eyes. Then he smiled. 'Love to.'

As if to illustrate that point, we ascended the stairs holding hands, and entered the main room beaming.

The Overs looked up hopefully.

'Yes,' Chris complied. 'I asked her out.'

Frieda's face split into the first smile I'd ever seen on her. 'Yeah!'

'I said yes, by the way,' I adjoined. 'Robbie!'

Robbie dropped the coins he had been passing to Thomas as if they had burned him. 'I wasn't doing anything.'

Chris and I rolled our eyes.

In honour of our new 'arrangement', Chris and I had decided to share a chair; I perched precariously on his lap, our knees tucked up against the armrest. Africans With Attitude had dug up a stack of old _Friends_seasons and these we decided to watch in chronological order.

I had only seen a couple of _Friends_episodes before, and these had probably been somewhere in the fifth to seventh sets, so I was dangerously near hysteria as Jen, Courtney, Matt, Matthew, Dave and Lisa punned and middle-classed their way through 'The Pilot'.

Chris rested his chin on my hair. 'What happened to Courtney? She looks great!'

'I know. I think this is before she started to lose weight.'

'Why would she have wanted to do that?'

I shrugged. 'Search me.'

He laughed. 'No thanks.'

I ducked my head shyly. 'Pardon the expression.'

I heard a very obvious 'awww' in the background, and tensed. God, this was worse than when I had first met Dennis a few years after we'd been childhood friends. My Mum and his Dad had simply sat and watched over us as we had a drink, smiling and coaxing whenever it was most inopportune. It was the most uncool few minutes of my life. Ironically, things only escalated when I invited him up to my bedroom…

Just kidding.

'Hey,' Chris murmured in my ear, the warmth of his breath tickling pleasurably. 'Think they noticed that we're sitting together?'

I doubled up with giggles and felt him shaking with disguised laughter. Maybe it was the chocolate at lunch, but I felt wonderfully hyper. Actually, scratch that. I felt completely hammered.

I jumped as Jennifer suddenly banged into Central Perk – clothed in a wedding dress. 'What the Hell?'

'Ross did just wish to be married,' Thomas pointed out.

'Yeah, but _technically,'_stressed Lorane, 'she's not married to him.'

'She could be,' Robyn envisioned. 'He could have had contracted amnesia on their wedding day and only now has she finally found her groom and she'll have to show him what his old life was like and they'll fall in love all over again…'

'…she was with me in high school,' Courtney finished.

Robyn smirked. 'Believe it or not, I knew that.'

Sunny wriggled uncomfortably and turned to the twins. 'You're elbow's digging into me.'

'Which one?' quipped Kevin.

She made a derogatory noise and shuffled very pointedly to the edge of the sofa. The twins grinned.

Alexis suddenly gave Bethany a hard shove. 'Jesus Beth, can you give me some _space?'_

'Hey!' snapped Bethany. 'Just 'cause you're three foot wide doesn't mean you can push me around!'

A classic _ooooh_swept through the room; the sort that usually headlines one Hell of a fight.

'Guys,' soothed Camilla. 'Calm down.'

She noticed us gawking. 'They're like this all the time,' she clarified.

Alexis and Bethany deliberately turned away from each other, arms folded so stiffly that their knuckles turned white.

Lorane leaned tactfully over to me. 'That's sad; that even groups can't put up with each other.'

'I don't know.' I gestured discreetly to Triple K, practically sitting on top of each other and looking perfectly content. 'They seem happy enough.'

Lorane tilted her head slightly. 'I guess living it rough gives you a lot of opportunity to get close to each other.'

I winced. 'You don't mean…'

She thumped me lightly. 'No!'

There was silence for a bit. Then Lorane bent very close and whispered, barely audible to my ears: 'Are you sure the Chris thing is a good idea? I thought –'

'He knows we're just friends,' I assured her. 'It's really just to humour the Overs.'

Her face was sad. 'Are you sure that's how he feels?'

I bit my lip. 'Well…that's a risk I'll just have to take.'

'It's not your heart you're toying with.'

She whispered it, but I heard. 'And it's not your life you're dictating!' I snapped.

'You alright?' inquired Chris.

I smiled tightly. 'Sure.'

'You don't look very well,' he remarked.

'Neither do you, but I guess we're both pale,' I teased.

He chuckled reluctantly.

'Love is sweet as summer showers; love is a wondrous work of art, but your love oh your love, your love…'

Robyn was singing along to Lisa's dreadful jingle, somehow making it sound like an Alexandra Burke original…

'…crapping on my heart.'

…with a seriously retarded composer.

Robyn, I had learned by now, was a little weird, but she meant well. For a nineteen year-old, she was interestingly clued-up, but enjoyed acting the part of an innocent spectator at the show of life, rather than a participant.

'Robyn's nice,' remarked Chris quietly.

I narrowed my eyes. ''Nice' as in 'sweet' or 'nice' as in 'I want to sleep with her'?'

He pretended to think, eventually choosing the former.

Dylan stretched theatrically, looking over at the clock. 'Alright kids, I think it's way past your bedtime.'

Was he looking at _me?_I wondered with glee how he would react if I told him that at this time on a Monday I'd be on the computer sending e-mails to Dennis 'til dawn. On that note, I contemplated whether Chris had ever had a girlfriend. I guessed yes. Who wouldn't be taken in by his sweet face and goofy demeanour?

Chris drew his arm slightly too close to my throat to check his watch. 'Maybe you're right.'

We glanced around the room, littered with the debris of our dinner: Dylan had managed to concoct a truly miraculous recipe from pasta, tomato sauce and spices.

Thomas cleared his throat. 'Should we tidy up, or…?'

'I'll take care of it,' offered China. 'No, really,' she continued as we started to protest, 'it'll be like being at home.'

So, feeling a little guilty, we dispersed and headed off to our separate bedrooms. All our rooms had adjoining bathrooms, so the rest of the Girls and I brushed our teeth and hair together, offering to help each other plait our tresses, Lorane and Robyn 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing over my crimson curls, claiming them to be completely unique.

That night, I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.


	7. Lies

CHAPTER SIX

LIES

28th of September

X Factor house

Dear God

I may not think much of you, whatever and wherever you are, but I have to say, sometimes you really can prove your worth. Some examples are Chris, Robyn, Lorane, Thomas, Robbie, Triple K, Dylan, China, Frieda…but most of all perhaps, Michael. Because he is a truly amazing human being. Don't suppose you put a bit of God into him, did you?

…_So don't forget your seatbelt_

_Don't you think of picking up the phone_

_Better say your prayers 'cause you're never gonna make it home…_

That night, I'm glad to say, was dreamless, so I awoke of my own accord, fully refreshed and ready for action before either of my fellow Girls.

I'd gotten used to having the house to myself in the small hours at home, pottering around with my music sheets and headphones for a few hours before my Mum could heave herself out of bed. On Sundays I would make her breakfast in bed around ten and crawl in with her. We'd eat warm slices of buttered toast, smearing raspberry jam on each other's faces like lipstick and blusher, and Mum would tell me what I was like when I was younger and I'd talk to her about a particular piece I'd been working on recently. I could do more than sing. In fact, writing music had been my passion long before I discovered my voice. I was determined that, should I ever release an album, I would at least co-write all my songs. And I'd love to feature one song I'd written when I was younger: 'Parallel Universe'.

I checked the watch I always wore around my wrist, despite (or perhaps because of) my Dad's horror stories when I was younger, of gangrene and loss of circulation. It was 7:30. So if yesterday was anything to go on, lessons would be starting in half an hour.

I sprung out of bed happily enough and pulled on my cosy old dungarees over a white T-shirt, topping this off with the black hoodie. I looked into the mirror – and nearly burst out laughing. God, I looked a _total_emo.

Robyn stirred at my snort. 'DJ? What's up?'

'Just getting dressed,' I informed her. 'I'd rather be decent when Michael hustles us down to the camera room.'

At my words she threw the covers aside and selected an outfit from her wardrobe hurriedly. I delicately turned away as she pulled it on: I had never really believed in the phrase 'all girls together'. We're all different and therefore should respect each other's privacy.

There was a shy knock at the door and when Robyn called out 'Come in!' Michael stuck his head around the door. 'You ladies decent?'

'Well I am,' said Lorane, pulling the duvet away from her face, 'can't speak for these two.'

Michael nodded approvingly. 'Dreamgirls! Nice touch.'

'Thanks.'

Michael swept his gaze over us – and halted at me. 'Er…you look very… distinctive.'

I shrugged cheerfully. 'That's why I'm here!'

Lorane shrugged off her sheets and shook her hair out confidently as she exited the bed. 'But you're _nothing_compared to me.'

'Ah, come on!' grinned Robyn. 'We all know who Jasmine's rooting for!'

'Yeah, me!' I cut in.

'OK, break it up girls.' Michael rapped his knuckles hard on the doorframe. 'You're needed downstairs in five.'

I started to panic. 'Oh God, are reporters here?'

'No, no,' he hastened to reassure me, 'just an expression. Take your time.'

And he left the room.

Lorane tutted approvingly, fixing her hair on top of her head with a silver clip without even a fleeting look at the mirror. 'Such a polite young man.'

I hit her with a pillow, recognising who she was imitating. 'Shut up; I didn't ask them to set me up with Chris!'

Robyn frowned. 'But you're so awesome together.'

'Yeah,' interrupted Lorane. 'Pity, as _she's got a boyfriend.'_

'_Oh.'_

'Lorane!'

'It's OK, I won't tell anyone,' Robyn told me calmly. 'Though the last time I said that my entire school knew in less than a week,' she added as an afterthought.

'Great, I feel much better.'

'Stop being sarky Di; you're not in school anymore.'

'Well then can I be sarky once we're in the camera room?'

Lorane thought for a moment. 'Yes.'

Soon enough we were all sitting comfortably (well, sitting at least) in the camera room, waiting eagerly for our temporary teacher.

He made his entrance a lot more subtle than usual, simply trudging through the French door with a few papers clutched to his chest. In fact, we barely noticed him until he did the microphone-board trick again that left us all shivering in our seats, half-deafened.

'You know,' Robbie mentioned quietly. 'You could just call us to order like a normal teacher.'

Michael smiled dangerously at him. 'But I'm not a normal teacher.'

And with that, he flicked a switch beside his desk and clicked a button on the projector he had wheeled in.

The room went dark at the same moment as the wall above said projector lit up – showing a mass of photos, all of celebrities humiliating themselves. And each one of us reacted to a different scene. There was Chris, staring at a picture of Zac Efron with his face stretched out of shape by a high note and clamping his lips firmly together. Dylan was gazing in earnest at Steve Martin with his stomach showing and pulling his shirt down as far as it would go. And Triple K were gawping in disgust at a scene of two Take That members with a red circle around their linked hands and an inked question mark; Kenneth and Kevin instinctively edging away from Kris as far as their adjacent desks would allow.

It was then that I noticed a photo of a girl. She was petite and long-haired, and her dress sense seemed quirky, judging by her…dungarees and white T-shirt. And she was standing near a boy. A boy with messy hair and puppy-dog eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out the accusation that was sure to go with this snapshot. It wasn't going to be about how cute it was that a boy and a girl could finally be 'just friends'. It would be something a lot more cliché than that.

I looked across at Chris, whose eyes were wide in horror. However, seeing me staring, he smiled at me. 'I'm sure it's not all that bad. There're only about…um…ten photos.'

There were at least fifty. 'I guess.'

He put his hands up defensively. 'Fine, you caught me. I can't count.'

I couldn't help laughing. Then I softened. 'Thanks.'

He reached for my hand under the table. And, even with the snapshot still fresh in my mind, I couldn't find the heart to pull away.

'OK,' declared Michael after sufficient time had passed for us to be permanently traumatized. 'Now that you've seen what fame has to offer…' He switched the lights back on. 'What do you think of when I say the word 'press'?'

Chris's hand shot up beside me and I admired his integrity. At least until Michael picked him and he promptly put forward 'Orange juice.'

Michael shook his head tolerantly, choosing Robyn's eager fingers instead. 'Books,' was her suggestion.

Michael was beginning to look a bit frazzled before finally Kendall gave him what he was looking for: 'Reporters and cameras and all that shit.'

Michael nodded. 'Exactly. And, as a matter of fact, I'm glad one of _you_boys said that, because…'

He removed the sheet of photographs from the projectors surface and slipped a newspaper displaying a large picture of the boys in the centre underneath it instead before turning the lights off once more.

Certain phrases leapt out at us straight away: **drug dealers**…**'too rough for the X Factor'**…**chavs**…**emos…**

Kris's jaw clenched. 'What the fuck is that?'

Michael obligingly picked it up and began to read. 'OK, so we were pushing it a few years ago with KLZ, but surely this is ridiculous? These boys have nothing to offer the X Factor but a total retraction of every comment of discrimination ever made about the controversial reality show. Well, unless we are indeed going to chalk this up to one of Daniel Cowell's publicity stunts. There is certainly no other way that these aggressive, emotionally-devoid thugs could ever have made it past bootcamp – not least after Jasmine's comment…'

'Stop,' whispered Kevin.

Michael carried on, ignoring him.

'We said _stop!'_roared Kenneth.

Michael coolly raised an eyebrow. 'Sorry. Didn't hear you.'

He folded the newspaper calmly and passed it to them. Kris, the eldest, instantly snatched it and tore it into ten pieces which he then shoved towards the rest of his group, who each grabbed a few pieces and chucked them to the floor.

There was a respectful silence.

'Well, there you go,' stated Michael quietly. 'That's just what happens if they don't like the look of you.'

'_Bastards,'_spat Kendall. 'We got in because the judges have brains.'

'Don't take it personally,' warned Michael. 'It could have been anyone; think of it as a lottery which you don't want to win.'

'Why us?' asked Kenneth rhetorically. 'What did we do wrong?'

'You're working-class and have short tempers,' Michael informed them. 'What more do you want?'

The boys looked like they were going into 'major sulk' mode by the time Michael moved on. 'Now. Can anyone tell me what some of the basic rules of today's society are?'

That was an easy question; everyone's hands were up when Michael alighted upon Dylan. 'Yes sir?'

'Don't kill anyone,' he recommended.

'Right.' Michael chalked it up. Then he put something else beside it so that that section of the board looked like this:

. Don't kill anyone. Unless there's nothing else for the news

Naturally, this left us very perplexed. But if Michael noticed this, he paid no heed, going on to the next hand he spotted. Lorane's.

She took the nail she had been chewing out of her mouth. 'Don't discriminate.'

'Perfect.' He repeated his former action, resulting in this:

. Don't discriminate. More than you can get away with

He looked around expectantly. 'One more should be enough. Robbie?'

'Don't have underage sex.'

Short, sweet and to the point. Very Robbie.

This is what Michael wrote:

. Don't have underage sex. Just frame other people doing it

He put the chalk down. 'That's all we need. Can anyone tell me what I'm trying to convey?'

Silence.

'Thought so. Well the basic message is that the press can get away with just about anything. Has anyone ever wondered what really happened to Corbin Bleu and David Schwimmer?'

'Please tell me this is a joke,' croaked China. She like, me, was probably remembering the different newspapers, different times, same basic story: they had been found bleeding in the gutter with nothing to go on but a couple of scribbled notes saying such things as 'Until we meet again' and 'So you know what's coming to you'.

He bowed his head. 'Sorry.'

Thomas had gone the colour of a melting candle sprinkled with soot, and Camilla looked like she was going to be sick.

'Again, nothing personal,' Michael reminded us. 'It's just business.'

I'm afraid I can't tell you exactly what I was feeling right then. There were too many conflicting emotions: confusion, horror, revulsion, nausea, distress…wait 'til you feel all those thing at once then you might understand; depends on the context. I have to admit, the only thing that prevented me from leaping up and running far, far away was the feel of Chris's warm, solid body alongside mine. There was a certain aura about Chris, like Lorane, that radiated comfort and safety.

'Kinda puts our homework into perspective,' I hissed to him.

'You're telling me,' was his shaken response.

'Look,' burst out Michael. 'I'm sorry that you have to live with this. But you signed up for it and you're lucky anyway: most celebrities don't get this kind of briefing.

'Yeah. Lucky,' grunted Kevin. _'That's_the word I'd use.'

'Guys.' Michael put a hand on his forehead. 'You need to calm down.'

Normally I'd agree. For the last ten minutes you couldn't have sliced the tension-thick air with a bread knife, and the rebellious mutters had been mounting so high that I was starting to get a headache. But in light of the revelation that had just been forced on us, I didn't think he could very fairly tell us off for freaking out quite a bit.

'How can we put up with this?' yelled Thomas. 'Living in fear of your life, never able to get off the hook – why the Hell should we stand for it?'

'Because we're celebrities,' Michael said simply. As if that was all that mattered. 'And the public wants gossip,' he added. 'Besides, the less we complain, the more copies they sell and, depending on the content of the articles, the more money we make. It's been this way for centuries and I doubt that it's going to change anytime soon. We just have to grin and bear it. Here, I'm about to hand you out a sheet of tips to get by. These will help you in the long run. I promise.'

It was as he was giving out the handouts that I realized I was crying. And once again, I had no idea why.

Michael stopped nearby me. 'Honey? You alright?'

I sniffed, feeling Chris's arm around my shoulders; his head against mine. 'I'm fine.'

Hey. Another lie couldn't hurt, could it?

Michael appeared to think for a bit before announcing 'Diana, can I see you after class?'

He dismissed the others as soon as all the papers were distributed, and then pulled up what had originally been Chris's chair. 'Let me start by saying this,' he launched in immediately. 'You, in my opinion, are far too young and fragile to be doing this. You're naïve and sweet and innocent, and you shouldn't even be reading the newspapers at seventeen, let alone living what makes the headlines. I'm just thankful that you've got Chris.'

'He is lovely,' I agreed vaguely.

'Yes he is. And he is going to be your saving grace in this game, Diana. Just don't get…_too_close to him, alright? I'd hate to see happen to you what happened to –'

He stopped.

'What?'

He shook his head, checking himself, and then carried on as if that last sentence hadn't just been uttered. 'I want you to remember this in the years to come, Diana: you are worth two hundred of every reporter you will ever meet. People are going to try to exploit your inexperience and controversy, and they are going to make you feel like shit. But however bad it gets, always keep in mind that none of it is true; they're just scum who want the money. Choose your friends carefully, Diana. 'Cause it gets tough when you're famous enough to take advantage of.'

I nodded, a little bedazzled – and very flattered. 'Thank you.'

He gazed into my eyes, his very wide and honest. 'You understand?'

I smiled at him. 'Yeah.'

He sat back. 'Good. You can go.'

As I stood and made to walk out, I paused and kissed him on the cheek. 'You're a wonderful person, Michael,' I notified him. 'You should get a lot more credit for the shows than you do.'

His whole face lit up gratifyingly. 'That may be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I'll see you tomorrow Diana.'


End file.
